A Plant for Two Seasons

September 26, 2020 ~ shoreacres ~ 25 Comments

Found primarily in coastal prairies of southeast Texas and Louisiana, the Texas coneflower (Rudbeckia texana) — one of several yellow coneflowers known as ‘Marguerite’ in Acadiana — often forms dense, colorful colonies.

Like many Texans, it seems to dislike our hot, simmering summers. After blooming in late spring, it rests until September, then blooms again through the fall.

This photo from the Brazoria Wildlife Refuge was taken in May. The flowers have begun to appear again along roadsides in east Texas, so a reappearance at the Refuge may be in the offing — just in time to provide a little fall color.

Comments always are welcome.

More Leaf, Less Color

September 24, 2020September 23, 2020 ~ shoreacres ~ 77 Comments

Unlike the tiny, glowing bit of autumn warmth shown in my previous post, this oversized leaf of an American Lotus (Nelumbo lutea) has become more crispy than colorful. As it dried beneath the September sun, it curled into itself, revealing a delightfully golden underside and highlighted ribs: as pretty an autumn abstraction as you could wish.

Comments always are welcome.

Equinox

September 22, 2020September 21, 2020 ~ shoreacres ~ 45 Comments

Autumn’s first unleaving

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,

the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back

from the particular island
of this summer ~ this now, that now, is nowhere

except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle

of unobservable mysteries – roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This

I try to remember when time’s measure
painfully chafes: for instance when autumn

flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay – how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.

~ Fall song ~ Mary Oliver

Lagniappe

Images and Incidentals

Author: shoreacres

A Plant for Two Seasons

Comments always are welcome.

More Leaf, Less Color

Comments always are welcome.

Equinox

Autumn’s first unleaving

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,

the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back

from the particular island
of this summer ~ this now, that now, is nowhere

except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle

of unobservable mysteries – roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This

I try to remember when time’s measure
painfully chafes: for instance when autumn

flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay – how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.

~ Fall song ~ Mary Oliver

Comments always are welcome.

Comments always are welcome.

Comments always are welcome.

Autumn’s first unleaving

Another year gone, leaving everywhere its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,

the uneaten fruits crumbling damply in the shadows, unmattering back

from the particular island of this summer ~ this now, that now, is nowhere

except underfoot, moldering in that black subterranean castle

of unobservable mysteries – roots and sealed seeds and the wanderings of water. This

I try to remember when time’s measure painfully chafes: for instance when autumn

flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing to stay – how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever in these momentary pastures.

~ Fall song ~ Mary Oliver

Comments always are welcome.

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,

the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back

from the particular island
of this summer ~ this now, that now, is nowhere

except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle

of unobservable mysteries – roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This

I try to remember when time’s measure
painfully chafes: for instance when autumn

flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay – how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures.